About Me

Let me start by saying I am NOT and will never claim to be an expert on anything. However, I do know a little about a lot of things...like being a daughter, a nurse, a referee, a teacher, a coach, a therapist, a cook, a housekeeper, a judge, a jury, a landscaper, a student, a wife, and most importantly...a mother.
Now for some things I know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about...bear hunting, skydiving, Naples, history, symbolism, engines, HTML, which came first...the chicken or the egg, etc....
Now, some things I am trying to learn a lot about...spirituality, darwinism, all faiths, history, meditation, nursing, maybe med school, and which came first the chicken or the egg.
I'm a SAHM who is never at home. My life is busy and crazy and I wouldn't change a minute of it!

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

A month ago, after passing my final test of nursing school, I had my seventh tattoo done. A tattoo that was fourteen years in the making. A tattoo that represented the end of my journey into becoming a part of the medical profession.

Yesterday, I got my eighth piece done.

Three little birds. “Bird” was my nickname growing up, in fact, much of my family still calls me “Bird” even now. However, I plan to get another much more colorful bird tattoo in honor of my childhood nickname.

This piece is more for another reason. Bob Marley’s song, “Three Little Birds” was played at my graduation from nursing school after the newest crop of soon to be nurses walked across the stage, and I just love it. The song’s message? Always apropos, “Every little thing….is gonna be alright.”

Such a good message, and for a tattoo lover, no better reminder than inked right on my shoulder. In life, no matter what, no matter who, no matter how…♫…don’t worry…about a thing…’cause every little thing…is gonna be alright…♫

So, yeah…they are totally addictive, and I’m hooked. Now if only my family would get on board with it. When I came home with my last one, The One Who Gets Away With Murder looked at the large reddened , freshly tatted spot on my back and with sincerity, said, “Mom…you have your nose pierced and tattoos everywhere. I don't want you to be one of those with tattoos all over her arms and stuff.”

I looked down at that sweet eight year old face and where the shame should’ve been, sarcasm erupted and I replied, “Awww…I’m sorry sweetheart, you don’t get to pick your parents!”